


Backlash

by obsidiancurrents



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-22 01:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15570837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsidiancurrents/pseuds/obsidiancurrents
Summary: Two years after Riddle's death, the Wizarding world is in a state of anarchy. Draco is under the thumb of a nascent Dark leader, Hermione's gone rogue, and Harry Potter is widely presumed dead. Warning: Dark. HP/DM HG/GW LL/NL.





	1. Chapter 1

On a dusty evening, Knockturn Alley outside of Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary was still and quiet before its door blasted open. Three figures cloaked in black stepped out, two bulky and one thin. Six eyes peeked out of three masks: black, blue, and grey. The two hulks flanks the thin, grey-eyed figure. They began to walk briskly down the street.

The blue-eyed man cackled. "Mulpepper - you'd think he'd get used to us robbing his arse by now. Merlin. I thought he was going to shit himself."

The black-eyed man sighed. "Reign it in, Avery. The man already fears us - no need to intimidate him further."

"What? I was just having a bit o' fun," Avery snickered. He playfully elbowed the ribs of the thinner one, who tensed and didn’t reply.

The black-eyed man turned to the thinner one. "You've got what you need to make the pain potions, boy?" The grey-eyed figure nodded. "Good - Carrow will be relieved. I only wish Snape was still around to brew for us, or at least died until after he'd brought you up to speed."

Neither of the bulkier men noticed the gloved hands of grey-eyes clench momentarily into fists. Shutters to the residences above the shops slammed as the three walked past.

"What say you to a drink, Mulciber? Duck into the Leaky Cauldron, for old times' sake?" said Avery, swinging his meaty arms casually.

Mulciber shook his head. "No. We've got to get this one back to Headquarters so he can brew. Carrow's in pain - "

"Aw, he's just putting up a fuss. Come on, just a half-hour and we're out of there. Let's have us a shot of firewhiskey, on me."

Mulciber seemed to consider this. "Very well, one shot and maybe a butterbeer," he conceded. "But let's make it quick."

They headed to Diagon Alley, turning the corner at the run-down Quality Quidditch Supplies. The grey-eyed Death Eater stole a moment to gaze at the freshly clipped, gleaming brooms while the other two weren't looking. He followed them past the darkened shops.

As they approached the brick back wall of the Leaky Cauldron, they crossed paths with a group of five hooded figures in white robes. From their necks hung silver hand-shaped medallions. As they passed, one, an elderly man, looked up at them. Noticing them, he cast an ugly glare. 

Avery stopped short and gripped the wand at his side. "What the fuck are you staring at, arsehole?"

The man’s craggy face twitched into a deadened expression of defeat, and he lowered his gaze. He and the other hooded figures quickened their pace.

"That's right," Avery sneered, brandishing his wand and twirling it in his fingers. "Just because you’re a damn monk doesn’t make you less of a wandless Mudblood. You’re lucky I let you live.”

"Really, Avery, shut it," said Mulciber, taking his shoulder. “Come inside and buy me a drink."

Avery tugged his shoulder free from Mulciber's grasp. He jabbed his wand towards his mask, which evaporated in a silvery cloud to reveal a bearded scowl. Then he made a sucking noise and spat after the elderly man. "Omnia scum."

Mulciber tapped the brick in a pattern with his wand, opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron, and finally succeeded in coaxing Avery inside. The grey-eyed Death Eater took a furtive moment to turn his mask toward the retreating, white-robed figures before stepping in after them.

As the three men entered, a hush fell over the already somber crowd of the Leaky Cauldron. Patrons dared glances in the Death Eaters' direction before returning quickly to their drinks. Avery smirked and sauntered up to a table where two silver-haired men were seated. He glared at them until they stood up and moved to the bar without a word. Avery nodded, self-satisfied, before sitting down and spreading out his thick limbs. Mulciber dissolved his own mask to reveal a face with sharp cheekbones, a strong chin, and black eyes as he took his seat beside Avery. 

The thin Death Eater took the chair facing them. Over Mulciber's shoulder, he could see the patrons seated at the bar as Tom the bartender worried his eyebrows and took the two silver-haired men's orders. Next to one of the men, a young lady gazed over her shoulder at him. The grey-eyed Death Eater had expected her to hurriedly turn her back to him once she'd realized he had caught her staring; she didn't. In fact, she shot him a rather impudent, dark look. Finally, she turned away. His grey eyes affixed to her back.

"Take off your mask and drink with us, Malfoy."

The third Death Eater was startled to discover that, in the time that he'd been staring at the girl, the other two had already ordered and received their drinks. They each held a shot-glass of firewhiskey poised in one hand and a butterbeer in the other. They’d ordered the same for him.

Avery pointed a wand between Draco’s eyes. He flinched - his mask blew away like silver dust, revealing a pointed face that may have been handsome if not for its haunted, agitated look. The shadows under each dull, grey eye were nearly black. The other two men looked at him expectantly, shot glasses held high. Without expression, Draco lifted his as well; all three threw the whiskey down their throats. It tore through Draco's insides, making him cough. Avery pounded him on the back and guffawed.

As Avery and Mulciber began talking over business matters, Draco's attention drifted back to the woman at the bar. There was something so familiar in the look she had given him, in the way she moved, but he couldn't place her. Her hair was long and sandy-colored. Her facial features were nondescript, besides the unusually bright eyes. She was not a great beauty, yet she made his heart pound.

He interrupted Avery and Mulciber as they praised the General yet again - something about his perfecting a wand-weakening potion - with a little cough. When they caught his gaze, he forced a mischievous smile.

"Would you excuse me, gentlemen?" he said silkily. "There's a lady at the bar I'd like to, ah, get to know." He nodded toward the sandy blond head.

Avery and Mulciber turned to gaze at the curve of her waist and hips. Mulciber smirked, and Avery winked. "Go get her, boy-o.”

With one last dashing smile, Draco took his beer and rose from the table. Avery punched him playfully on the shoulder. He stepped past him and approached the bar just as the patron sitting to the woman's right closed out his tab and left. Draco took the vacated seat.

It didn't escape his notice that the woman seemed to immediately recoil from him. The scowl he had seen before returned to her face as she took another sip of her butterbeer, her gaze glued to the bar. He noticed that her slender hand shook; she turned slightly away, as if wanting to pretend he didn't exist.

Draco cleared his throat before saying cautiously, "Hello, miss. Have we met?"

She coughed, but otherwise continued to ignore him.

He clenched his jaw and peeked back at his two partners. They weren't watching. Draco scooted his stool closer to the woman, close enough that their thighs were touching. She froze; he heard her breath quicken, saw her eyes dart about. He leaned close until his breath brushed her ear.

"I don't know if you heard my question."

She swallowed and closed her eyes. He noticed the little blonde hairs on her neck standing on end. He darted another glance back at Avery and Mulciber. Avery was grinning at him luridly. His heartbeat quickened.

Her right hand was wrapped tightly around her mug; her left was clenched in her lap. Draco slowly reached over and hovered his hand over her thigh; she stiffened her legs and grit her teeth as she watched his hand close around her wrist.

"I will ask you one more time," Draco whispered into her ear. "Do you know me?"

She took a deep breath before turning to face him, surprisingly defiant. "No," she said, her voice deep and much firmer than her quivering hands would predict.

Her bright eyes widened as Draco’s wand jabbed her rib. His mouth, next to her ear once again, was in a snarl.

_"Where the fuck have you been all this time, Potter?"_


	2. Chapter 2

The woman crashed to the floor as Draco hit her with an  _Incarcerous_. Some patrons snapped their chins up in shock; others immediately fled the scene.

The woman writhed against her bonds. Avery and Mulciber sprang to their feet.

"Malfoy," hissed Mulciber. He stalked toward Draco. "What are you doing?"

Draco kept his wand trained on the woman, though his hand shook slightly. She glared back at him. The thick ropes tightened around her mouth and torso, burning their marks into her skin.

In Draco's eyes glinted a moment of calculation. He leaned toward his companions, and spoke quietly. " _That_  - is Harry Potter."

Mulciber stared. Avery broke into laughter. "Boy, I knew you were a bit off," he hooted, "but this is some kinky shit -"

Draco wrinkled his nose. "I'm not  _roleplaying_ , you f-" He caught his tongue, closed his eyes. "I'm telling you, this is Potter. In disguise, obviously."

Mulciber had been watching the girl closely. "Avery, search her," he murmured. "Quickly."

Avery looked down at the woman, who looked ready to bite. He smirked. He knelt down and slipped his hand into her robes. Draco thought he saw Avery's finger brush against her breast as he reached into her inner pockets. The woman growled.

"If this is some joke…" Mulciber warned Draco, who was scowling at Avery. "Think about your mother, boy…" Draco looked at the floorboards and nodded.

Mulciber turned to address the remaining patrons. "Everybody leave the premises at once," he said. The remaining customers scurried out.

Avery extracted from the woman's pockets a flask, a wand, a metal block with an antenna, and a folded piece of leather. Avery handed the wand to Mulciber, who inspected it.

"Could be Potter's. What's in the flask?"

"Polyjuice potion," said Avery. He opened the folded leather object and slipped something out from a pocket inside. A plastic card.

"What is it?" Mulciber snatched the card from Avery. As he stared at it, his mouth twisted into a smile. "Malfoy, you aren't so useless after all."

He held the card for Draco to see, and Draco tore his eyes from the woman's face. A small photograph in the corner of the card showed a young, dark-haired man. Even without the signature eyeglasses, Draco could recognize who he was.

On the floor, a look of horror shot through Harry Potter's defiance. Mulciber pointed his wand.

" _Stupefy_."

* * *

Harry woke as he hit the stone floor of a dark cell. With a wave of Mulciber's wand, the metal door clanged shut. A crackle of magic like static electricity zipped along the bars of the cage. Harry immediately felt his energy draining from all sides, like the cage was feeding on him.

"We'll wait until he transforms, just to be sure," Mulciber told Avery. "Then we'll call the General."

"We'll definitely be promoted for this."

Harry couldn't keep his eyes open. The cell was like a vampire. As Mulciber and Avery retreated into the darkness ahead, he fell to his knees and passed out.

* * *

"Hello, Harry Potter."

The soft voice woke Harry with a start. A sharply-dressed woman wearing a neat brunette plait and a faint smile gazed at him through the bars of his cell. Two masked death eaters - her bodyguards, Harry guessed - hung behind her.

He sat up from the floor and rubbed his head, which was covered in shaggy black hair once again. Groggily, he lifted himself to his feet, then faced her.

"Are you the General?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

She laughed softly. "I've been told of your arrogance. I'm afraid you don't warrant a visit from the General. I'm merely his assistant."

Harry was silent. He had a nagging feeling that he'd seen the woman before, but he couldn't place her.

She began to pace slowly. "You make a fair maiden, Harry," she said. "Do you often transform into ladies before venturing into Death Eater territory?"

He didn't answer. She looked thoughtful, then extracted a wand from her robe. His wand. He twitched.

She stopped pacing and inspected the wand by the firelight of a sconce.

"How do you like the cell, Harry?" she asked him. "Anti-magical properties. I designed it myself."

She tapped one silver end of the tube with her finger. It snapped open, as if on a hinge. Harry's jaw muscle worked as she slid his wand inside it. The silver cap closed.

Harry flung himself forward to clutch the bars of the cell, but he was repelled forcefully backward. When he regained his balance, the tube had lit up with a pale indigo light. The wand inside began to vibrate and blast red sparks. Black smoke filled the tube. When it dispelled, the wand inside was splintered and dull.

The woman reopened the tube, slid the wand out, and tossed it into the cell. Harry immediately snatched it. He examined it with the concern of a father.

"Go ahead, keep it," the woman said with a smile. "It's useless now."

Harry tore his eyes from the destroyed wand. He shot the woman a look of pure ire.

Unfazed, she turned to her death eater companions. "We can get some information from him tomorrow. But for tonight, why not give him a taste of what he's in for?"

With a curtsy to Harry, she departed. The two death eaters advanced. They raised their wands.

" _Crucio_!"

* * *

Sleep, sweet sleep had finally descended on Harry when the sound of footsteps echoed from the darkness once again.

He was curled up on the stone floor, his body aching. Whenever he'd nearly nodded off, aftershocks of pain would shoot through his limbs and startle him awake.

Now, a pale face emerged from the darkness. When Harry saw who it belonged to, he grit his teeth. Flinching, he slowly got to his feet.

"Get back, Malfoy," he said quietly.

Draco stopped short. He glanced over his shoulder, into the darkness behind him. Then he drew closer, standing just beyond the vampiric magic of the metal bars.

"Potter," he breathed. "There's no time. We have to -"

"You fucked me, Malfoy," Harry hissed. "I hope you got a nice bloody reward from your death eater friends."

"Shut up, Potter, and listen to me -"

"I thought you were on our side, you bloody traitor -"

"Potter -  _Potter_! - look at me!" Draco growled.

Harry glared into the grey eyes. A moment later, all he could see were those eyes; his vision tunneled; darkness closed in.

When he could see again, he appeared to be standing in a dark room. Draco stood facing him. An amorphous cloud of soft light engulfed them, but their surroundings remained in shadow.

He glared at Draco, his chest still heaving. Draco clasped his long fingers behind his back and turned on his heel, very much like Snape. He began to walk around the room - or at least it felt to Harry like a room; he couldn't see any walls, or even a floor for that matter.

The glowing cloud engulfing them split into two. One followed Draco, and one stayed behind with Harry.

"Malfoy." Harry's voice echoed a bit. "Where are we?"

"Your mind," he answered. "Obviously."

Draco seemed to inspect something on an invisible wall. "You have some scars in here, Potter."

"Nice trick, Malfoy," Harry said sarcastically. "But what the hell are you doing inside my mind?"

"I had to speak with you," answered Draco, still examining the room. "Without the guards overhearing."

"What do we have to talk about? How pleased we are to see each other?"

Draco turned to smirk at Harry. "You should be pleased to see me, Potter. I'm your ticket out of here. And you're mine."

Harry blinked. Draco came closer.

"You're going to help me escape," Draco breathed. "Me and my mother."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What are you playing at, Malfoy?"

"I'm not playing, Potter. I'm trapped here," said Draco. "They're always watching me - I can't even carry my wand most of the time. Unless I'm brewing their potions, or patrolling with them. They tell me they'll ship me off to the camps if I disobey. They say they'll hurt - hurt my mother. They keep her locked up in some filthy vault downstairs. I haven't seen her in weeks. I'm starting to think -"

Draco abruptly stopped. He turned away and paced the mind-room again, keeping his face averted.

Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Malfoy," he said slowly. "If that's true I - I'm sorry. But, I can't help you."

"Yes you can," Malfoy said, locking eyes with Harry again. "I've managed to dodge their watch on a handful of occasions - this little trip down to your cell being one of them. I've seen where they're keeping my mother. I've heard her crying." He set his jaw. "Her vault is heavily reinforced. It's decorated with stone serpents. I'm guessing that Parseltongue is the only way to get inside. I don't know about the General - I've never seen him here. But that assistant of his...she's a Parselmouth."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "That's impossible, Malfoy. I can't speak Parseltongue anymore. I haven't been able to since Voldemort died."

Draco shook his head. "No. Dark magic changes you permanently. You can still speak it, somewhere deep down."

Harry gave him a pity-filled look, to which Draco scowled. Draco took a few steps backward, stretching his hand toward Harry. " _Serpensortia_!"

Harry suddenly felt the weight of something hanging around his shoulders, and he heard a hiss in his ear. On reflex, he threw the snake to the ground. It was made of shadows, but he could see its fangs. It reared at him.

"Talk to it," demanded Draco. "Like you did before."

"Malfoy, what the hell?" Harry backed away slowly. The snake slithered toward him, bobbing its head. "Get rid of it, Malfoy -"

"Just try, Potter."

"Malfoy, for Merlin's sake, I -" he bit his lip. The snake advanced; it opened its jaws. "I can't. I can't do magic, all right?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. He waved his hand just as the snake prepared to sink its fangs into Harry's leg. It dissipated like smoke. "What do you mean?"

Harry looked away. "I can't do magic," he repeated.

Draco stepped closer. "Potter," he said, as if to a particularly slow child. "You do realize this cell is designed to drain magic."

"It's not the cell." Harry glared at Draco. "It's me. I can't do any magic - I haven't casted a spell in two years."

The mind-room dissolved around them. Once again, Harry stood in the cold cell. On the other side of the bars, Draco gaped at him.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco could smell the dampness of the stone walls. No windows filtered morning light into the tiny room, where Draco lay on a thin mattress. Draco had endured long stretches of never seeing the sun, never setting foot outside the General's underground complex. He always looked forward to the occasional excursion outdoors to purchase (or plunder) brewing supplies - chaperoned, of course.

He'd barely slept through the night, which wasn't unusual. The memory of his mother's shaking voice and her face etched with pain kept him awake. Images of her sleeping on a hard, cold floor, her graying hair blackening with dirt, crying alone in a vault - these thoughts made his teeth grind painfully against each other.

In his dreams he would chase a shadowy, hook-nosed figure through dark tunnels. When he finally caught up to Severus Snape, he would hack his wand through the air, cursing his former mentor for failing to protect them.

No, last night was not unusual.

But this morning was.

Because Draco knew that Harry Potter was alive. He was here, not far down the corridor from Draco's very bedroom. How many times had he prayed for the idiot to return, stubborn jaw set and eyes blazing, to save the day once again?

Yet...something had happened to Potter, had altered the man who'd once boldly looked pure evil in the eye. Something catastrophic.

"He's useless now," Draco told the empty room. His glimmer of hope dulled.

A moment later, he heard a knock at the door. Mulciber's face filled the small window. "Sleeping in, Malfoy?" The door muffled the death eater's voice.

Draco grunted and rose from his bed, naked. That usually got Mulciber to piss off.

It worked. "Get to the potions lab," Mulciber called over his shoulder as he walked away.

Draco threw on a standard set of black robes. He dropped a bulky book into his pocket and shortly followed.

Before closing the heavy door behind him, he looked back into his room. It was cramped with only a small trunk and an unmade bed - if you could call a mattress on the floor a bed. It made his old bedroom in the Manor look like a palace. He swallowed; his mouth was dry.

Mulciber met him in the potions lab. He handed Draco his wand. It felt just right in Draco's hand, the wood warming his skin. He smiled down at it.

Mulciber cleared his throat and considered him coldly. "Start with the healing potions."

Draco nodded, then turned toward the bench. He extracted the heavy book from his robe and stroked the writing on the back cover... _property of the Half-Blood Prince_. He set the book in front of him and opened it to the healing potions.

He retrieved a cauldron, a jar of copper, and a bottle of shrake spines from the supply closet. Mulciber watched him with half attention.

He measured, then carefully placed the copper into a mortar. As he began to crush with a pestle, the outer world fell away. He could only feel the smoothness of the pestles, vials, and flasks in his hands; could only see the ingredients spread before him, the text marking the thin pages of the book, the minute letters Severus had traced in its margins…

Other than thoughts of his mother, potion-making was the only thing that kept him sane. He closed his eyes. " _Focus your mind,_ " he could almost hear Severus say.

He pushed away a painful image: disgust in Severus's eyes at catching Draco staring at him a moment too long.

Instead, he remembered his mentor's hands as he demonstrated the proper technique to measure liquids, crush seeds, and control the flame under the cauldron. He remembered the praise he'd given him, not with his caustic words, but with a brief softening of his dark eyes. He imagined the satisfying bubbling of a potion that had turned out just right.

Draco loved brewing. And he was bloody good at it.

If only his potions weren't probably murdering innocent people.

"Daydreaming, Malfoy?" said Mulciber, breaking him from his reverie. "Shall I let Narcissa know how seriously her son is taking her imprisonment?"

Draco felt heat rise to his face, but forced it back down. He calmly imagined stomping Mulciber in the throat. He turned and gave him a stiff smile.

"Mulciber," he said, attempting to keep the edge out of his voice. "How is she? You haven't let me see her in so long."

"Not to worry, Malfoy," said Mulciber. "We're taking good care of your traitor mother. Now back to work."

Draco remained frozen, searching Mulciber's eyes for signs of deception. He didn't dare use Legilimency; he couldn't risk the enemy discovering another one of his talents to use against him.

Without warning, Mulciber drew and slashed his wand. Draco stumbled backward, covering his face with his hands. When he tore them away, he saw that blood tinged his fingers. His cheek stung.

"Back to work," repeated Mulciber calmly.

* * *

Harry sat in the center of his cell, hugging his knees. He wondered faintly if someone would bring him something to eat.

Not that he felt hungry. He couldn't feel much of anything, really. Not for a long time. Except for anger, but even the rage over his capture felt like a distant memory now.

He thought of Malfoy. He wondered if it were true, what Malfoy had said. If he were enslaved, his mother held hostage. Did he have a reason to lie?

It didn't matter, anyway. Harry couldn't help him. He couldn't even help himself.

He looked over his shoulder. The remains of his wand lie in a corner of the cell. Just another reminder of his uselessness. He wondered why he'd held onto the wand all this time.

"Potter," came a gruff voice from beyond the cell bars.

No need to turn around. He recognized his visitor's voice. "Hullo, Avery," he said. "Come to keep me company?"

"Fancied having a chat with the Famous Harry Potter," said Avery. "Before you're maimed beyond recognition."

Harry sighed and looked at Avery. The death eater smirked at him, standing in the dim torchlight.

"Best if you tell me all you've been up to now," continued Avery. "Perhaps we can spare you the Longbottoms' fate."

"I haven't been up to anything," said Harry. "And I don't know anything."

Avery chuckled. "Right. Harry Potter knows nothing about the war." He sighed theatrically. "Have it your way, then. Won't be the first time I destroy a mudblood-lover who won't talk. Your girlfriend was particularly fun to play with. And her mudblood friend."

Harry felt numb, like someone had just doused him in ice water. He stood and walked shakily forward to stare straight into Avery's eyes. "What the hell did you just say?"

Avery's smile twisted into a grin, full of unsettlingly white teeth.

* * *

Once he'd recovered, Draco attempted to lose himself in potion-making once again. But his hands wouldn't stop shaking. Something felt wrong.

He extinguished the flame beneath the cauldron, and he set the unfinished essence of dittany aside.

He glanced at Mulciber. The death eater was distracted for the moment, in conversation with a pretty female death eater standing in the corridor.

Draco returned to his work table and braced himself against it. He closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and attempted to empty his mind.

He tried to clearly picture his mother's face. He imagined her sharp cheekbones, her thin smile, and her soft blue eyes. He imagined reaching out to her with psychic energy through stone floors and walls. He willed her to feel his presence.

Once he had a clear picture of her, he imagined diving through her pupils and into her mind. Everything went black…

He opened his eyes. He once again saw the work table before him, the shelves along the walls holding vials and bottles.

He looked at Mulciber, who was eyeing him suspiciously. Defeated, Draco returned to his essence of dittany before his neglect could ruin it.

He had never heard of remote Legilimency actually working. He didn't know why he tried.

Tears threatened to spring to his eyes, but he swallowed them back. He chastised himself for his childish frustration.

* * *

"How I miss the Weasley girl," said Avery. "She made me laugh, with all her struggling. The mudblood put up quite a fight, too. I didn't mind; I like the lively ones."

Harry's heart pounded in his ears. "You saw Ginny and Hermione?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"Oh, I did much more than see them, Harry," answered Avery, smiling wider.

Harry sprang forward, not caring that the cell bars would propel him back. He wanted to claw Avery's smug face.

"What did you do to them, you sick bastard?" Harry shouted. "Where's Ginny? Where's Hermione?"

"They're gone, my boy." Avery looked suddenly serious. "Couldn't take it, I'm afraid."

"What couldn't they take?" Harry spat. "Answer me!"

Avery slowly grinned once more. The glee in his eyes was palpable.

"You didn't hear? They're dead."

* * *

Draco's heart sank. His whole life he'd been at war, fighting for the wrong side. When he'd tried to come to the light, he'd been punished. Perhaps he was simply fated to side with the devil.

He had to accept defeat and keep his head down. His mother's life depended on it.

But even as he thought this, the strangest sense of excitement gripped him. He felt more alert, more alive. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He glanced sideways at Mulciber. The death eater leaned against the wall, nodding at two of his comrades as they passed by.

On impulse, Draco began stealthily pocketing any potion he could find. Small acid-green bulbs, emerald vials, and flasks of every color dropped into his robe pockets. Handfuls of raw ingredients joined them.

He spotted a pearly white bottle on the shelf. After a moment's hesitation, he pilfered that as well, his heart pounding.

* * *

Harry tried to plunge his hands through the cell bars. He wanted to choke the death eater scum grinning at him from the other side.

His fists crashed against the wards of the cell. He kept pounding. All he could hear were his own hammering pulse and the savage growls emitting from his throat. His body violently shook and twitched.

"What did you do to them?" he shouted. "What did you fucking do?"

Avery laughed merrily. "Well, I did many things, Harry," he said. "You'll have to be more specific. I have to say, I did think they'd be more difficult to break. But in the end, they begged for mercy."

Avery licked his lips. His eyes looked far away.

Within seconds, though, his attention had snapped back to Harry. His bearded mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Small trickles of deep scarlet dripped from the corners of his eyes.

The room lit up with a white flash. Harry's mind went blank.

* * *

Draco heard a long, low howl from below him.

Then an explosion rocked the floor like an earthquake.

Draco fell to his knees. "Harry," he whispered.


End file.
